“Hey!” he yelled. “What the fuck?! I gotta be home by eight. My daughter’s got a play. Come on!”
“I don’t know!” the driver returned.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“They got out. I’m just following orders!”
“Following orders, what the fuck? You follow my orders. And I’m telling you to put this piece of metal back on the fucking road and–”
Suddenly, the driver’s side door opened. A gun barely made its appearance before two silent spits punctured straight through the head of the driver. The bullets sailed clean through his skull and starred the glass of the opposite window.
Newton backed up. “Holy shit!” He fumbled for his gun.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the special agent behind him said.
Newton turned and found a barrel aimed point blank at his face. In a cramped position, he had nowhere to go. His wide-eyed gaze darted from the rogue special agent to Cervenka.
“You’ll have to excuse me,” Cervenka said calmly as the back doors opened on either side, letting in the gusts of portentous air which chilled every vertebrae on their bodies. “But I’m afraid I’m not going to make that flight after all.”
With the stateliness of a very powerful leader, Rybar Cervenka disembarked the SUV and stood on the paved cemetery ground. He took a moment to breathe in the scent of death and life and the heavy weight of forthcoming precipitation. Then, he turned to a very stunned, speechless Newton, whose hands were up and whose eyes held a kind of disbelieving acceptance that this was really happening.
“I think your six inches might be right on the money,” Rybar said, not in the least jocular. His face turned solemn. “I’m very sorry about this.”
Newton’s expression altered to fear. “What? What do you mean, sorry?”
A driver presented Cervenka with a gun, and Cervenka pointed the death-gifting instrument at the special agent.
“No, please! I just–”
Rybar pulled the trigger. He looked upon his kill with remorse afterwards, but: “It couldn’t be helped.” He handed off the hot gun. “Make sure his family is compensated.”
The doors of the Suburban and the three drivers, one ex-special agent, and an illegal alien strolled away calmly. In the next instant, a blinding flash rented the peaceful atmosphere and the Suburban and all three cars exploded, flames licking up every square inch and ravaging the bodies that mercifully no longer lived.
All five men disappeared into the night while the fire danced on.
And so ended the deportation of the Red Fisher.
63
Shelley gazed along with her matron of honor Melissa on one side and Ashleigh on the other at their reflections in the beveled, floor-length mirror. Pale pink roses and baby’s breath bloomed behind them – leftovers from the florist. They were in a warm, slightly musty-smelling dressing room of a charming cathedral in Southampton.
Shelley looked sensational in a cream-colored satin gown that she’d bought off the rack at Macy’s bridal. Ironically, it cost far less than the designer gown she’d purchased for Carrie and Jared’s wedding. However, no dress could’ve disguised the fact that there was something amiss: a glow.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Melissa asked, a sympathetic look on her face as she kept her arm around Shelley’s waist. “You can’t change your mind afterwards unless you plan on being one of those girls who goes shopping for a husband every year or so.” She tacked on a cheesy, brilliant smile.
Shelley sighed as she looked at Melissa reproachfully. “I’m doing the right thing. I love Carter.”
“Uh huh,” Ashleigh chimed, her lips shimmering with gloss. “You love him so much you wanted a shotgun wedding.”
Melissa grabbed Shelley by the shoulders, jostling the bride’s perfectly curled mane. “You’re not pregnant, are you? Come on, you can tell me.”
Shelley rolled her eyes. “No. For the last time, I’m not. Although, I wish I was. It might make this whole thing easier.”
“See!” Melissa exulted. “You are having doubts.”
Shelley grimaced and turned away. “Please, stop it. Both of you.”
Ashleigh exchanged highly depressed looks with her big sister, and together, they flocked the bride as she sank onto the white leather stool in front of a vanity.
Melissa crouched on her haunches to peer into Shelley’s profile. “Let me put it this way, if it was Zach you were walking down the aisle to marry today, would anything we say affect you?”
Shelley’s gaze lifted, and she found her dull mirror image staring at her.
“Yeah, because you know,” Ashleigh added, “I was just out there, and he’s standing on that stage right now looking so totally hot.”
Melissa elbowed her sister sternly. “Nooo. He looks like a sad, pathetic puppy. And you are going to have him within five feet of you while you recite vows to his best friend.” She leaned close until her blonde head touched Shelley’s richly-toned brunette one. “Can you handle that?”
Shelley’s hands clenched in her lap.
Both girls gave the bride a hug and peck on her cheek and then left. “We’ll be right outside if you need us,” Melissa said.
Then, before Shelley knew it, her friends were gone, leaving her alone with her tumultuous thoughts. Butterflies flourished in her chest; she didn’t know what to do anymore. Panic heated her. She felt nauseous with it.
Then, she noticed Melissa had left her keys on the console. Shelley’s breathing seized. Eyes wide, she looked around guiltily, afraid of the thoughts going through her mind. Her fingers reached out and touched the cold jagged pieces of metal. Acura MDX.
On gut-driven impulse, she grasped the keys firmly and stood to her feet, feeling like she had to get some air and perspective. Spying the door which led directly outside, she hiked up her dress and rustled that way, hoping that Carter wouldn’t hate her for delaying the ceremony.
Zach stood next to Carter dutifully in front of a sea of sharks – the New York district attorney (Carter’s boss), the New York attorney general and his wife, the entire law firm of Mitchel, Weston & Sons, several other prominent trial lawyers, and six state and county judges, including Judge Blankenship who was staring at Zach with a shrewd, assessing gaze.
He, however, tried studiously to keep his cobalt sights on the back of the church by the doors that stood open, waiting for the bride to appear.
Henri wasn’t back there but sitting up front with Carol, holding her hand, giving Zach a cold appraisal – likely still trying to figure out if he’d had sex with his daughter. In sharp comparison, his grandmother and Carrie looked at him with obvious pity, so obvious he wanted to march over and tell them to leave.
He didn’t notice how the friends and family gathered started whispering or how Carter shifted uneasily when it was a few minutes after seven and the ceremony hadn’t started.
Melissa peeked around from the door frame all the way in the back of the sanctuary and instantly caught Zach’s gaze. She motioned to him with restrained anxiety, her look pleading with him to come.
He frowned. What the hell was he supposed to do? Walk out? Sighing, he stepped off the platform, throwing Carter a casual “I’ll be right back.”
Melissa paced in the back room, wringing her hands, while Zach made the call. Ashleigh chewed on her manicure.
“Yes… Maryland license plate number NKD 6759.” He listened and responded to the questions accordingly. “No. It’s not stolen. We just need to locate it.”
“I’ve got OnStar,” Melissa suddenly interjected.
Zach frowned at her and covered the mouthpiece. “Why didn’t you just say that?” Back to his call, he conveyed the message. “No, she doesn’t want it disabled because her friend is operating the vehicle… Yeah, I’ll hold.”
Carrie came in, then. “What’s going on? Where’s Shelley?”
Ashleigh answered, “I think she ran away.”
Carrie’s eyes wid
ened and her jaw dropped open to say, “I told you she loves you!” she whispered fiercely to Zach.
Immediately, Zach’s hand reached out to cover her mouth. His brows were drawn tight. “It’s where…?” He raised his head, looking around the dressing room for an exit. “Okay, thank you.” He hung up and gave Carrie back her face. She looked at him peevishly.
“So what did they say?” Melissa asked.
“The car never left the parking lot.”
Color seeped into Melissa’s cheeks. “Oh. I’m sorry, Zach. I just assumed.” The four of them headed out the door into the darkness. Snow would be coming soon by the look of the opaque white skies.
There were plenty of vehicles, and it was too hard to see though the church itself had a few lights in the parking lot.
“Where’d you park?” Zach asked, gaze combing over every car in the lot.
“I don’t know. Brad dropped me off and then left me the keys in case I needed something. I can go ask.”
“Never mind, I see it.” Zach jogged over to the Acura mid-size SUV, but even before he reached it, he knew what he would find. He brought his face near the tinted windows and cupped his hands so he could see inside. Empty. Not even a trace of Shelley. Except–
The keys were in the ignition.
His heart lurched. Placing his hand on the frigid passenger door handle, he opened it and as expected, the alarm didn’t go off. “Where did you go?” he muttered under his breath, well and truly worried now. He heard the freezing girls approaching, calling to him if she was in there. But as he was about to answer, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.
He withdrew it. Caller ID. Unknown.
A scowl contorted his handsome features. Couldn’t be.
“This is Zach,” he answered.
The Czech brogue which hissed on the other end lit a match to his fraying nerves. “She’s going to die.”
64
People had started talking in low tones, and Carter up front, maintained his position though he looked less confident than he had when Zach was standing with him. Jared could just feel his tension and commiserated with whatever heat accumulated beneath the man’s white collar.
Jared turned to look over his shoulder as Carrie returned. But instead of sitting next to him, she bypassed their pew altogether and moved forward until she was at Rick’s row.
After conveying a hushed message to the Italian, Carrie straightened and came to sit down next to Jared.
“So what’s happening?” he asked as the detective got up and passed them by on his way to the back of the church.
She whispered in his ear: “Shelley’s gone.”
Jared nodded, not surprised at all. He felt sorry for Carter though – the embarrassment would be killer.
Rick came out from the church in time to see Zach’s BMW speed off. Disgruntled, he called the man right away.
“Hey, you’re not like running off with her, are you?” he joked.
“No,” Zach replied. “I need you to give me fifteen minutes and then call local police in Manhasset, alert them to a potential break-in at 1250 North Plandome Road. But tell them it’s a hostage situation so stay loose. Then I need you to call the G’s and ask them if they know that Cervenka’s escaped. And tell them I think I may’ve found Kazanov.”
Rick recoiled. “Shit. Are you serious?”
“Make sure you keep everyone at the church. Don’t let Shelley’s parents or Carter go looking for her. And if for some reason I don’t make it, tell my Grandmother I love her.”
“Hold on,” Rick protested. “What do you mean don’t make it?”
But the line went dead. He cursed. Glancing at the stone church and then at his bull red Mustang, he decided he had to ditch another date on account of Zach. Oh well. She wasn’t really his type, anyway. He muttered as he stormed towards his car. Flurries began to descend.
A blizzard was coming.
Fifteen arduous minutes later, Zach finally arrived at his destination. He parked along the wide, smoothly-paved street far enough away from the house that no one could have possibly seen. Pulling a gun from his glove compartment, he checked the magazine and then tucked it into his slacks, concealed by his suit jacket.
It was clear to him that there was no FBI watching the house. Of course not. Any security would’ve relocated to the church. Then, how had they missed the runaway bride?
He ran up the winding driveway clinging to the shadows splayed by the looming pencil trees watching over the estate. They seemed to glare down at him for encroaching upon their territory this evening.
A new kind of fear crept on him. It was the fear that he was about to lose something very precious to him. The sky was white and foreboding, telling him he was every bit a fool. The snow quickly thickened and fell faster, swirling around him on a brilliantly cold wind. But despite the chill, he began to perspire.
He made it to the gloomy garage and crept along with his back against the brick siding until his hand fell into a sudden indentation in the wall and touched upon a smoothness. He turned his head to the left and detected the faint outline of a handle. He tried it and found it unlocked. For him, no doubt.
He eased the door open and stuck his head in first. Listening. Feeling out the warm darkness.
Hearing nothing, he slipped inside, missing the way strange shadows slithered from hidden places around the property.
The door to the house was on the opposite end of the three-car garage. Quickly circumventing the Audi and a new Lexus LX570, he entered stealthily and found himself in the environs of the Mitchel’s kitchen. With a modicum of confidence, he stepped into the large gourmet kitchen. No lights were on.
The outside lamp posts that diffused gently through the large bay window to his left were the only source of illumination, but they cast wild, animalistic shadows on the marble. He could see that the snow had already begun to accumulate on the frozen ground.
As he walked silently, he smelled the scent of lemon with just a hint of ammonia. Freshly cleaned floors. There was also a sweeter more pungent aroma that fanned his way with a slight draft. He turned to his right. An elaborate arrangement of flowers – roses it looked like – sat in a tall carafe on one of the two island counters.
His pupils adjusted to the darkness, and he decided that Shelley would be upstairs.
As he recalled, the banister lined the entirety of the second floor. The stairs curved up from two directions. More than one way up. More than way down.
But there was also–
His head swiveled and his gaze locked on the closed door to the pantry.
Shelley’s secret.
“He won’t come!” Shelley practically yelled, glaring with desperation at Ivan Kazanov and his sordid crew who had all taken up the space in which she’d spent years dreaming. Only one lamp was on and it half-illuminated her panicky fear.
But this? This went beyond any of her wildest imaginings.
Kazanov stalked closer to her, a crude smile on his Slavic face. “If you really believe that, why so distressed?” He touched her chin with two fingers, bordering on a caress. “I’m sorry this had to happen on your wedding day. But you have only yourself to blame. In fact, you made things quite easy. My gratitude, ma chère.”
Shelley cringed and tried to turn her head away only to have her face yanked back, and her cheeks squeezed harder. She gripped the comforter of her bed upon which she perched and tried to lean away. But Ivan just pulled her forward until she could practically see her breath fog his belt buckle. Her gaze traveled up to his face, fearfully, and her heart raced at the licentious way he looked down upon her.
Keeping a firm grasp on the back of her head and neck with one of his iron paws, he drew his thumb down her quivering lips. She tried to resist, but it only caused his grip on her to firm. “What would you do to spare yourself?”
Her eyes filled with angry tears, and a sprite broke loose. “Nothing!”
Infuriated, he slapped her hard enough to throw her back o
n the bed. Cold wrath lighting his face, he climbed on top of her and slapped her again, taking pleasure in her scream. He strangled her neck with the seeming intention to crush the life out of her while he grabbed up the folds of her dress until he had access to the satin underneath.
But then, a cell rang and one of his hoods came over, holding the phone out. Kazanov relinquished his hold on Shelley’s neck but didn’t get off from her.
She gasped and coughed while he answered.
“Yes?”
“You fuck her, I’ll fuck you.”
An eager smile broke out on his face as he reined in his lust and vindictive desire. “Detective Ericson, how good to finally hear your–”
BANG! BANG!
Suddenly, gunshots exploded in the hallway outside the room. His comrade whose cell phone he’d just used went at once to open the door. But as soon as he did, two bullets shot straight through him – one in his throat and the other shattered his clavicle. He staggered back, hit the wall, and smeared his blood all over it as he slid to the ground, choking, eyes filled with terror.
Now, Kazanov’s rage hit the roof. “That’s enough!” He bound off the bed, cursing explicitly as he produced a 9mm, grabbed Shelley by her abundance of hair, and pulled her crying form to her feet. Her satin gown rearranged itself instantly over her legs and only the redness of her face and the preponderance of tears gave any signs to the near-violation.
He swung her in front of him and pushed her in sight of the open doorway, still several feet into the room. Keeping himself protected behind a wall, he pointed the gun to her head. “Ericson! Get your ass in here before I pull the trigger!”
Zach’s hand shook with the force of his wrath. Heat filling every vein, firing every nerve as he stalked forward, stepping over the bodies of the Brother’s Circle he’d dispatched. It had only taken Shelley’s scream; the sound had ripped through his heart and shattered whatever ounce of sanity and restraint he’d possessed. He didn’t care that the lifeblood of his kills painted the carpet, splattered the walls, lathered the bannister. He only cared that Kazanov himself held a gun to Shelley’s temple, smartly keeping himself inaccessible.
Crime & Counterpoint Page 31
